Cantus Invictus: PokeMon X
by Argent Inluminai
Summary: In these dark times, when the world is under the dominion of the Cantus Invictus criminal sect, the only one who can conquer the Unconquered Music may be the one at the head of them all...


**Cantus Invictus: PokeMon X**

** Chapter One: Dia de los Morty**

It was not unheard-of for assassination attempts to be made on some member or another of the Cantus Invictus; between splinter fragments of the (former) Teams Snag'Em and Rocket, and the now-desperate law-enforcement agencies of the world, there was certainly no shortage of would-be assassins. Fortunately, for the Cantus Invictus, repeated assassination attempts had taught them how to side-step the danger, and the lives of a few former members were a small price to pay for such valuable knowledge.

* * *

As the dark-clad thugs hustled him through one darkened corridor after another, he had to wonder how they were making their way around the places; aside from the labyrinth-like twists and turns, the light-level was so low as to be nonexistent. At least they were just moving him along; he'd expected a little more violence if he were caught. 

Looking back on it, he still didn't understand how he'd been tripped up; the only thing he could think of was bad information, or just plain bad luck. The former was all-too-possible, in these days of despair, and the latter…

Well, it seemed as though bad luck had been following them all, since the rise of Cantus Invictus, and even his own famed inner peace was frayed thin around the edges.

There was a near-silent grinding sound that made him start, but the four guards surrounding him didn't slow in stride; it took him a few moments to realize that they'd passed through a doorway, and he'd only figured that out when a repeat of the soft grinding noise seemed to indicate the doors closing behind them. The knot in his stomach began to tighten, almost painfully, once more, and he suddenly realized that the silent yet uneventful march had lulled him into a false sense of calm— A dangerous thing to have happen, in this kind of situation.

As he began to feel the edges of panic rise within him – it wasn't as though they'd be frog-marching him around the complex forever – he became aware of yet another, nearly inaudible sound… This time, it was actually pleasant, in and of itself, even though its place here was unnerving. It was music, in fact. Near-silent at first, it gradual grew in volume as they approached, so at least he knew they were approaching the source… It was a single violin, tremulously weeping into the darkness.

About the time that he identified the instrument, he also noticed that it seemed to be getting brighter… Or, at least, less dim. A vague blue light was beginning to overtake the blank darkness, and he could now see that they were proceeding down a long corridor, in a large hallway or audience-hall of some kind; this explained the slight hollow echo of their footsteps, and he felt instinctively that he was being taken to one of the higher-ranked members of Cantus Invictus, perhaps even…

There was a sudden, blinding flare of blue light, so bright and intense after the darkness that it was painful; as he flinched and shut his eyes, he noticed again that the guards seemed unaffected. Doubting once more that they were actually human – were they robots? He wouldn't be surprised – he blinked frantically, chasing away the polycolored dots that danced dizzily before his eyes, and for several long moments all he could see was a vaguely human-shaped shadow as the light dimmed to a softer, more manageable hue.

"I know that was over-the-top," came a voice, clear and low but surprisingly young-sounding, "but people answer more truthfully when they're disoriented." The shadowy shape suddenly became much larger, and he tensed as he felt something thin and fine poke against his throat, just below the jaw. The shadow resolved itself into a young man, younger than himself, with strange, pale markings across his cheeks and silver goggles over his eyes; blue lights played over his pale, spiked hair as he lightly jabbed the captive with the violin-bow in his gloved left hand. "You're going to answer truthfully, right? _Morty_, is it?"

The sinking feeling in the former Gym Leader's stomach abruptly disappeared; his stomach seemed to have dropped out together, his cool clinging to his mind as two four-legged shapes – one sleek and almost feline, the other with a profile of a single, sharp-edged horn – seemed to materialize from the background, pacing idly behind the youth addressing Morty. At last, the ex-Gym Leader replied, "I don't think I could tell you anything you don't know already."

His "interrogator" seemed pleased at this response, grinning like a… Well, like a teenager, below those featureless silver goggles. "Nice answer," he said, sounding slightly impressed as he withdrew the violin bow, allowing it to fall to his side like the violin in his other hand. "Y'know, you're probably right." He backed away a bit to look Morty over, allowing Morty to discern a large executive-type desk behind him as he began reciting, "You're with that rebel faction… The one made of ex-trainers and bleeding hearts who don't know when to move over for the new regime. 'Pals of PokeMon,' or something." He gestured dismissively with his hand, shrugging. "Whatever. You were probably trying to take out our fearless leader, judging by the fact that you were caught in Section 3-2H, which is where his quarters were… Last month." One side of his grin quirked up in a smirk as he commented, "I guess your info was a little out-of-date, eh?"

Gritting his teeth and hoping it wouldn't show, Morty forced himself to reply, "I guess it was," resisting the urge to add a curse onto the end. They'd lost a trainer and all six of her PokeMon to get that information, and it was _useless_, after all!

"See, the thing that gets me is this," said the speaker, tapping the violin-bow against the side of the desk he was leaning against. "You're a Ghost-type trainer, right? Your PokeMon can _WALK THROUGH WALLS_. Well, float. So why didn't you just send _them_ in, huh? They'd be in and out, no problem." This kid, whoever he was, paused for a few moments, but it was obvious he didn't expect Morty to answer; Morty remained silent, and the kid continued. "You didn't want them to take any risk you didn't take yourself. That's such a selfish way to do things, you sad, naval-gazing New Age-r."

Morty bristled at the insults, but was deprived – again – of the chance to reply by the kid going on, his voice raised as though to make a point. "If they got hurt, or captured, or killed, you'd feel bad, right? Of course you would. You'd feel guilty. You'd probably never be able to let go of it, and you don't want that. So, you tag along, just to prove to yourself that you're willing to take every risk your PokeMon do. And then you get them caught."

One of the men stepped forward, handing the youth Morty's six miniaturized PokeBalls, which he didn't even glance at before setting them on the top of the desk behind him. The two PokeMon-sillouhettes, who were perched sedately on the desk-top, didn't show them any interest either, though the PokeBalls rolled about a bit on the flat surface. "Now we're taking them, of course," said the kid. "And we'll probably throw you into a cube or something, unless you can be useful. I don't suppose you'd wanna swear allegiance to Cantus Invictus, would ya?" Morty's silent, enraged glare needed no translation, and the kid shrugged. "Didn't think so. Y'know, your kind never do. Not you, and not any of the other ex-Gym Leaders and high-and-mighty trainers we welcomed into our little web." A mock-sigh. "Really a pity about that Eusine guy, huh?"

"You lousy sonuva-- !"

And Morty, having finally come to the end of his considerable patience, was promptly placed into unconsciousness as one of the guards standing around him pressed a small metal device to the back of his neck and depressed a button. A charge of electricity quickly dispersed itself through his body, his muscles going limp as he slumped, rag-doll like, to the highly-polished marble floor. The taser was smoothly replaced into the pocket of its wielder as two of the others hoisted the body up, the kid moving back around the desk to fling himself into the plush swivel-chair.

"Find a spare containment unit and shove 'em in," he ordered, "and get the PokeMon to the Processing Labs. If the others can't covert them… Black Ring 'em, unless they're _too_ troublesome. Then, get them Sealed and distribute them, ASAP. Get goin'!"

The guards vacated quickly, the ones with their hands free giving brisk salutes – drawing their right hand across their chests – before taking both the PokeBalls and their (former) owner and leaving the youth alone. Leaning back into the chair, he sighed and swung his boots onto the table-top as one of the PokeMon, an Absol, leapt down from the table and rubbed its head carefully against its trainer's hand.

"Fine, fine," he responded, replying to the PokeMon's unspoken question as he obligingly scratched it's neck. "I'm fine, Etude…" Which he was, technically speaking, but somehow… The joy had gone out of his job, and he wasn't quite sure how to get it back. Not to mention, he wasn't the only one unhappy…

The other PokeMon, an Espeon, sat poised at the edge of the table; it's elegant forked tail drooped just so, the jewel on it's forehead sparkled faintly in the dim blue light, but it's dark eyes were cold. This hadn't been a common occurrence, before, and it's trainer was… concerned.

"Nocturne… Come here."

The Espeon did so, moving silently across the tabletop like a pale-violet shadow; something in its step seemed familiar, and for a moment the trainer could almost see the ghost of a pitch-black partner gliding along beside it. But only Nocturne settled in his lap, curling up without a sound as it's trainer gently ran a gloved hand over it's short-cut fur.

"I know, Nocturne… I miss Requiem, too."

* * *

**A/N:** Those of you who read my (sadly, but hopefully temporarily, discontinued) other Pokemon fanfic should recognize the characters. What's going on here? Is this the same universe? We'll see, won't we? 

And review! Reviews motivate me, make me happy, and will also win you, eh... Cookies? Yes! Cookies of your choice, just for reviewing. Do it for the cookies!

And anyone who can name the source of the horrible pun I had for this chapter-title, you get rainbow sprinkles on your cookie. _Mm_, sprinkles!

(Still hate the spacing.)


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